


safety net

by envysparkler



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Gen, Good Sibling Jason Todd, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, falling, featuring Dick's longstanding trauma of watching family members fall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29265213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/envysparkler/pseuds/envysparkler
Summary: Dick can see it – can see Jason’s face change, concentration slipping into shock – no time for fear, no time for terror, just pure, plain surprise as the ropesnaps.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd
Comments: 100
Kudos: 838





	safety net

**Author's Note:**

> It's absolutely hilarious how my writing moods correspond to looming deadlines.
> 
> Dick absolutely losing his mind whenever a rope breaks is a fun thing to write.

Dick hadn’t realized how much _fun_ it would be to teach acrobatics.

He’d taught the Teen Titans a bit, sure, showed them some cool flips on the bars at their gym, but their setup was _nothing_ compared to the full-blown trapeze arrangement that Bruce set up in the Cave in Dick’s early days of Robin, and he could definitely see the difference.

One of them being the grinning gremlin child hanging upside down from a swing, face red.

Jason swung, twisting through the movement, and slid off the swing at its arc, reaching for a hanging ring. His fingers brushed the edge, but he hadn’t gotten high enough, and he slipped off.

Dick, idly swaying on a nearby swing, winced, his stomach twisting, but Jason bounced on the net set up fifteen feet below them, and pushed himself up with a grumble and a scowl.

“You’re too impatient, Little Wing,” Dick chided gently, watching the kid clamber back up the ladder, “You need to get some more height before you jump.”

Jason made a face at him as he climbed back to his starting position, and Dick relaxed slightly as Jason started swaying again, pushing himself back and forth to get some momentum. Again, Jason let go, reaching for the ring – but he hadn’t twisted all the way through the movement and his foot caught on the edge of the swing.

Jason plummeted with an abrupt cry.

Dick couldn’t help the chuckle, even as his heart skipped a beat at the sight of Jason falling. The kid bounced to a stop and glared up at Dick.

“Do I need to tell you what you did wrong?” Dick smiled, “Or did you figure it out?”

“I can do it!” the kid proclaimed, crawling back over to the ladder. He clambered up the rungs and down the swaying beam, swinging using two hanging rings before grabbing the swing and tucking his legs up.

“Arch your back,” Dick instructed, swinging his legs to sway in place. Dick promised Jason that they could try a doubles routine if he got this move down, which was probably why he was so determined to do it – Dick didn’t need Alfred’s pointed comments to realize that Jason genuinely wanted to spend more time with him.

It was a whole lot better than constant frustration and arguing, anyway, and up in the swings, Dick could very easily ignore the brooding vigilante sitting at the Batcomputer.

“I know, I know,” Jason grumbled, “I’ll get it this time, I promise.”

Dick sighed and thought about pointing out that he was going to be here the whole weekend, but decided not to break Jason’s concentration.

The kid swung, higher and higher, and Dick leaned forward as he let go – not perfect form, but getting there, good height, hand open, fingers snapping closed around the ring.

Concentration had no time to shift to satisfaction or elation, because the moment Jason’s weight hit the ring, the rope holding it in the air went taut.

And snapped.

Dick could see Jason’s expression shift to shock, too early for fear or terror, just plain, pure surprise as the ring fell, as _Jason_ fell, wide, wide blue eyes getting further and further –

And Dick didn’t know when he let go, when he jumped, when he pushed off the swing, hands outstretched, but _Jason was falling_ , down and down and down and Dick couldn’t watch this, he couldn’t, _his fault his fault his fault his fault_ echoed in his head on an unending loop.

He caught Jason. Tugged him into an embrace and wrapped his limbs around him, twisting so that Dick would hit the ground first.

The reasonable, logical part of his mind pointed out that there was little difference. That Dick would not be enough of a cushion to spare Jason, not from this height.

Dick just clutched Jason tighter.

Corded rope snapped taut against his back, pressure growing painful tight before it released – they bounced slightly, before the pressure came back, again, and again, before they were finally still.

The net. The net had caught them.

Because of course there was a net.

Because Bruce wouldn’t have let them up here without one.

“Dick?” Jason ventured, his voice muffled, “Um, you can let me go now.”

Dick couldn’t. The very thought of unclenching his arms made him shake even harder.

“Bruce?” Jason called out, his voice shifting to something more alarmed, and footsteps headed their way immediately.

“What happened.” Not all the way to a Batman growl, but close, and Dick knew Bruce was scrutinizing them through the net, judging the situation before he climbed up.

“The ring broke? And Dick’s not letting me go for some reason.”

Dick held him tighter, forcing the kid’s head under his chin, gasping softly as he tried to remember how to breathe.

Even after all these years, he still knew _exactly_ what a human body hitting the ground sounded like. It was the soundtrack to half his nightmares, and he had no trouble imagining it again, imagining dark red seeping out from black hair, blue eyes gazing vacantly up, a twisted body far too young, a robin with broken wings.

Dick choked on the sob, desperately clutching Jason, listening to his heartbeat, reassuring himself with the warmth curled against him. The net vibrated and Dick felt it shift as another body joined them, crawling across the woven rope.

“Dick?” Bruce said gently, his voice a far cry from the stony-faced displeasure Dick had seen during their last argument over Dick’s career plans. “Chum, can you hear me?”

Dick couldn’t open his mouth to respond. He _couldn’t_.

He was nine years old again, frozen and still and petrified and _no, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening_ –

“What’s wrong with him?” Jason asked, starting to struggle. He elbowed Dick, but Dick refused to let go. He couldn’t let go. If he loosened his grip, he would fall. Jason would fall. They would all fall.

Two little broken birds who thought they could fly.

“Dick,” Bruce asked softly, “Can I tell him?”

A slightly hysterical part of Dick pointed out that this was a funny time to start respecting his privacy. Dick just jerked his head in a short nod, because he couldn’t speak, and he couldn’t let go, and he could feel Jason’s breaths getting sharper and shallower as his struggles grew more frantic.

A warm hand landed gently on his head, brushing the hair out of his face. “Dick’s parents died when their ropes snapped during a performance,” Bruce said quietly, “They weren’t using a net.”

_He saw it happen_ , he didn’t say, because Jason could surely put the pieces together by himself.

“Oh,” Jason exhaled, stilling his struggles, “I’m sorry.” Silence stretched as Bruce kept stroking his hair. Dick tried to match his breaths to those strokes, but he could only take a couple ragged breaths before he started gasping again.

One slight hand wriggled free of Dick’s stranglehold, and slowly patted him on the back. “It’s okay,” Jason said, “I’m fine. All in one piece. You caught me.”

He had. No matter what else he’d failed at, _he’d caught Jason_.

“You can keep hugging me if it makes you feel better,” the kid said magnanimously, as if Dick would’ve let him go otherwise.

Dick pressed his lips to the kid’s hair in a silent thanks, and didn’t try to suppress the tears.

* * *

He refused to let Jason back up on the trapeze equipment until he personally checked every single rope, a process that took the remainder of the weekend.

* * *

“Hood!” Dick snapped, chasing after the other vigilante, “Give us the drive back!”

“Not until I get a head start, Dickwing,” Hood laughed, clearing the edge of the rooftop easily as he leapt for the next one, “I don’t want you getting to those traffickers before I do!”

Dick jumped after him, gritting his teeth. He knew that Robin was following alongside, running a little behind due to his shorter reach, and Red Robin was swinging in front, aiming to cut off Hood’s escape route, but Hood took out his grapple gun, clearly reading the situation.

He shot it at a nearby apartment building as they reached the edge of the neighborhood – the rooftops abruptly dropped as the city transitioned from the East End to Park Row, and if Hood managed to get on the other side of the apartment building, he’d be in his own territory, and they’d never be able to find him.

Dick launched his own grapple line, hooking it just behind Hood’s, and that automatic look to make sure the line had caught was the only reason he saw the grapple line, taut as Hood leapt off the roof, immediately go slack.

It swayed back against brick, dangling limply.

“ _Hood_!” Dick shouted, ignoring his grapple to lunge for the fire escape. He didn’t so much descend as _jump_ , grabbing the railing to slow his fall and crashing to the ground so hard his knees slammed into pavement.

He ignored the shooting pains and surged back up to his feet, taking a brief glance skywards to calculate Hood’s likely trajectory before scanning the rest of the alleyway. _Red helmet_ , his mind reminded him, even as his stomach churned at the thought of looking for a body accented in red.

“Hood!” he yelled again, hobbling forward – no sign of a body in the shadows, no sprawl of broken limbs, no spread pool of red or a helmet shattered in pieces, no sign of Hood at all. “ _Hood_!”

An open dumpster. Nightwing braced himself and jumped to balance on the edge, staring inside, his heart hammering against his chest.

The first thing he saw was the red bat. The second thing he saw was the red helmet. Still. Unmoving. On his back, spread-eagled on top of bags of garbage.

“Hood,” Dick said, strangled.

A low groan.

“Hood, please, _please_ be alive,” Dick babbled, frantic, hands curling under Jason’s shoulders and pulling him out of the dumpster.

Jason groaned again, and Dick nearly crumpled as he yanked Jason out, his knees sending stabbing pains up his legs as he wavered under Jason’s weight. He slowly, gently lowered Jason to the ground – _spinal damage_ , something in his mind shrieked, he shouldn’t have moved him, there was a protocol for this, he needed to follow it, why was he uselessly clutching Hood’s shoulders and shaking?

“Nightwing?” came a hesitant voice from the end of the alley – _Robin_ , his mind pinged, but Robin was under his hands, too still, too silent, the boy that had laughed and flown until someone had torn those wings to shreds.

“Hood, _Hood_ , please, please don’t – you can’t – _please_ –” Dick’s hands fluttered uselessly over Jason – he couldn’t detect any broken bones through the body armor, or the helmet, and all he could imagine was tugging the helmet off to see red _everywhere_ , leaking out like a rotten watermelon, dulled green eyes staring sightlessly forever.

If they hadn’t been chasing him, if Jason had had the time to check his line, if they weren’t four stories off the ground, if they weren’t –

“Wing,” a mechanized voice slurred, “ _Wing_. ‘M fine.” He shifted, bracing an elbow as if he was actually trying to get up and Dick threw himself on top of him, forcing him back flat against the ground.

“N- _no_ –” who knew how injured he was, he needed medical treatment, they needed to call an ambulance, they needed to get him to Leslie, they needed –

He’d fallen so _quickly_. One moment there, a taunting hand raised, and the next just _gone_ – vanished without even a sound, too surprised to scream, just a heart-stopping thud.

Trembling fingers found the catch in the helmet and eased it off, terrified of what he’d find – Bruce had run to him so quickly, had tugged him off the ledge and hid his face in the dark cape, but Dick had still seen it, seen the vacant stares and misshapen skulls, had seen his parents die in an instant.

Jason blinked at him, head tipping to one side. Dick ran his fingers through his hair, skimming his skull, checking for any bumps or cuts or blood, half-expecting to feel a hollow cave-in on every stroke.

“I’m fine,” Jason repeated, gaze focusing on him, a scowl automatically twisting his face. He batted at Dick’s hands, too weakly to actually stop him. “N, I’m _fine_.”

No head wounds, as far as Dick could tell. That didn’t mean anything, not from the height he’d fallen, not when there were a hundred other things that could’ve gone wrong, because he hadn’t caught him, because his little brother had fallen and _Dick had been too far away_.

Not as far away as space, but it didn’t matter, not when the end result was the same.

Dick realized he was crying when tear drops landed on Jason’s armor. “Wing, I’m okay,” Jason said, softer than his usual sneer, and Dick let himself drop, burying his head against Jason’s leather jacket and holding on tightly.

He still felt like he was sinking, that swoop in his stomach that foretold weightlessness, the sensation of falling and falling and never hitting the ground.

“Dickie,” Jason sighed, his voice barely a whisper. Dick clutched him and didn’t move, shuddering through the loud sobs, ignoring everything that wasn’t the steady beat of Jason’s heart below his cheek.

“I found the drive,” Robin said from somewhere near the dumpster.

“You _brat_ ,” Jason growled, but he was cut off by Red Robin.

“Batmobile’s enroute,” Red reported, “ETA forty seconds.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m _fine_ – Nightwing, let go of me, you’re freaking out the kids.”

If Dick let go, he was going to break, and he didn’t think he could put the pieces back together again.

“You fell four stories. The probability of a spinal fracture –”

“Come one step closer, baby bird, and I’ll show you just how not broken my spine is.”

“You need to stay still until we’ve evaluated –”

“Fuck, just tell me that the Bat’s out of town.”

There was a telling silence.

“Great,” Jason groaned, “Just how I wanted to end this night. Wing, I know I said I’m fine, but you’re weeping on top of a couple of broken ribs, so if you could scooch, that would be fantastic.”

Dick shifted to Jason’s shoulder, keeping one hand resting over his heart.

“If you fuckers don’t invite me along to bust those traffickers, I _am_ going to kill someone.”

* * *

“If you’re not going to check your goddamn grapple lines before patrol, I am. Hand them over.”

“Wha – you want me to come to the Cave _every night_ so you can check my equipment? I’m not a fucking child, Dickhead, I don’t –”

Dick’s eyes flashed, “Either you come here, or I find you, Jaybird.”

Jason opened his mouth to protest, indignant, and Dick narrowed his eyes. Jason wisely closed his mouth again.

**Author's Note:**

> And that's how Jason was dragged back to the family - with the threat of his older brother's tears.


End file.
